


Fevers, Bananas, & Math Lessons

by whumphoarder



Series: Tumblr Prompts [11]
Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Delirium, Drabble, Fever, Fluff, Gen, Influenza, Precious Morgan Stark (Marvel Cinematic Universe), Sick Peter Parker, Stark Lake House, Tony Stark Has A Heart, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, and then build them back from all the calcium in the cheese, this thing is so fluffy and cheesy that it will first rot your teeth away
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-29
Updated: 2020-03-29
Packaged: 2021-03-01 05:14:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,027
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23369842
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whumphoarder/pseuds/whumphoarder
Summary: Peter has the flu at the lake house and, in his confused state, thinks it's time to head to school. Morgan and Tony play along.
Relationships: Morgan Stark (Marvel Cinematic Universe) & Tony Stark, Peter Parker & Morgan Stark (Marvel Cinematic Universe), Peter Parker & Tony Stark
Series: Tumblr Prompts [11]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1281074
Comments: 130
Kudos: 738
Collections: IronDad! & SpiderSon!, Irondad and Spiderson 🕷, Ultimate Favorites





	Fevers, Bananas, & Math Lessons

**Author's Note:**

  * For [meetmyescapingclocks](https://archiveofourown.org/users/meetmyescapingclocks/gifts).



> Written for the dialogue prompts: "Go back to bed before you hurt yourself" and "I don’t… I don’t feel good."
> 
> Thanks to [sallyidss](https://sallyidss.tumblr.com/) for beta reading and to [meetmyescapingclocks](https://meetmyescapingclocks.tumblr.com/) for idea bouncing with me! <3

Tony is sitting at the kitchen table with Morgan, sipping coffee from his 3D Hulk fist mug and playing a third round of spider solitaire on his tablet, when Peter comes stumbling into the room. The kid looks—there’s no other word for it—terrible. His sweatshirt is both inside out and backwards, there’s a sheen of sweat to his forehead, and he’s sporting a downright impressive case of bedhead. His unzipped backpack—stuffed with what appears to be a hefty stack of Morgan’s favorite picture books—is slung haphazardly over one shoulder, and he has that wild look to his eyes that only three solid days of the flu can give a person.

“Mr. Stark!” he blurts, snagging a banana from the fruit bowl on the table. “I gotta leave! Like… like  _ now!” _

Lowering his coffee mug, Tony quirks an eyebrow at the kid in amusement. “And a lovely morning to you too,” he mocks. “Now where exactly are you planning to go with that fever of yours?”

“To… um…” Peter trails off, now holding the banana in front of his face with a confused expression. Looking almost mesmerized, he starts slowly tightening his grip around the overripe fruit.

Tony rolls his eyes. “No, Pete, don’t do that, it’s gonna—”

The fruit’s skin suddenly splits open and banana flesh starts oozing out between Peter’s clenched fingers.

“...pop,” Tony finishes, grimacing.

Peter’s gaze remains transfixed on the banana in his hand. “To school,” he informs. “Have to… go to school.”

Sitting across the table, Morgan looks up from her mostly eaten bowl of Froot Loops, the stragglers of which she is chasing around the bowl of milk with a spoon to push them into little groups. “School?” she asks hopefully. “Does that mean Peter’s feeling better now?”

Tony snorts a bit and gestures dramatically at the clearly delirious boy. “I don’t know—you tell me, munchkin. Does he  _ look _ better?”

The six-year-old frowns and looks him over for a few seconds, then sighs. “No. Not really,” she says sadly.

“Right, still fluey as ever,” Tony agrees. Turning back to Peter, he says, “So let’s just go back to bed before you hurt yourself.”

Finally, Peter looks up from his demolished banana. He blinks a few times, then swallows hard. “I don’t… I don’t feel good,” he murmurs.

“Shit.” Tony lurches to his feet as the kid’s face visibly drains of color and grabs hold of Peter’s shoulders to quickly guide him down onto the now vacated chair. “Head down, alright?” he instructs, pushing the kid’s head toward his knees. “Can you go get him a juice box, sweetie?” he addresses his daughter.

“Yeah!” Morgan jumps up and spins on her heel toward the fridge. “I’ll get him apple!”

“Sounds good,” Tony tells her. He moves his hand up to rub Peter’s back as the kid breathes carefully in and out. “Hear that, Pete? She’s getting you apple. What a pal.”

Peter makes a small noise of discontent in the back of his throat. “School,” he breathes out, shaking his head slightly. “Gonna be late.”

Morgan races over with the juice box. “Why does Peter want to go to school?” she asks curiously. “Doesn’t he have spring break like me?”

“He’s just a little confused right now,” Tony explains. He presses his palm to Peter’s forehead, feeling the heat coming off of him. He’ll have to send Morgan for the thermometer next. “Doesn’t seem to remember he’s on break. Or that his tests were last week.” He pauses a beat. “Or that it’s Saturday.”

Morgan’s eyebrows knit together in adorable concern. She crouches down to look at Peter’s face, which is still tilted toward the floor. “Hey, we can still go to school, Petey,” she offers in a slightly falsetto tone that one might use to speak to a small child or misbehaving puppy. “I’ll be the teacher and you can be the kid. We’ll go play in the living room, okay?”

Tony laughs a bit. “Morgan, that’s really sweet, but he’s pretty sick. I don’t he’s gonna want to…” 

He trails off as Peter lifts his head and locks his glassy eyes with hers. “Okay,” he whispers.

“Yeah!” Morgan agrees. She grabs Peter’s overly warm hand in hers and throws her dad a grin. “And you can be the school nurse, Daddy.”

“Oh boy, a promotion,” Tony grumbles as he helps hoist Peter to his feet.

X

Ten minutes later, Peter is situated on the chaise section of the large sofa with a blanket wrapped around him. He’s just finished “snack time”—a box of juice and a dixie cup of animal crackers, chased with a couple fever reducers from Nurse Tony—and he’s now attempting to follow along with his teacher’s lecture on her rolling Fisher Price whiteboard.

“What’s five plus eight?” Morgan says, pointing her pencil at the crooked numbers on the board. 

Peter’s face screws up in tired thought for a second. “Uh, thirteen,” he mumbles.

Morgan glances over to Tony. “Is that right?” she whispers.

Tony shrugs innocently. “I don’t know, Ms. Stark. You'll have to count and check.”

“But I don’t have enough fingers,” Morgan sighs, looking down at her hands. She glances up hopefully. “Can I borrow yours?”

Tony snorts. “Does this mean I’m the TA now?”

Morgan’s face scrunches up in confusion. “What’s a TA?”

“Teaching assistant,” Tony explains, holding up his own ten fingers for her to count with. “Like Ms. Grady in your classroom.”

“Oh! The para!” Morgan says. “Yeah, you can be the nurse  _ and _ the para.” 

“Hoo boy.” Tony blows out a low whistle. “Am I gonna have to be in two unions then? Because that’ll be complicated when it comes to negotiations.”

Morgan tilts her head to the side. “Huh?” 

He waves a hand dismissively. “Never mind. I’ll explain bureaucracy when you’re older.”

“Okay,” Morgan agrees readily. She counts off eight of Tony’s fingers, adds five of her own, then counts them all together. “Thirteen!” she concludes. “Petey you were right!”

(A light snore issues from the sofa where Peter is resting, eyes closed.)

“Guess it’s nap time, Ms. Stark,” Tony says over Morgan’s giggles.

**Author's Note:**

> Comments make my day! Please consider leaving one below <3  
> Come and hang out on tumblr if you'd like! My url is [whumphoarder](https://whumphoarder.tumblr.com/)


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